


Marks You Leave

by JamtheDingus



Series: Hunk Ship Week, 2018 [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruises, Domestic, Established Relationship, Forehead Kisses, Gentle touches, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-09 02:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15257133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamtheDingus/pseuds/JamtheDingus
Summary: For Hunk Ship Week, Day 4: Gentle/Rough-“I know you took that hit for me earlier.” Shiro says, frustrated but gentle.His hands break free from Hunk’s hold to thumb across Hunk’s cheek, passing across the visible part of his bruise. It, unfortunately, didn’t warrant any time in the pods. Shiro almost wishes it did, because Hunk didn’t look right bruised and battered with anything less than a goofy, dorky grin on his fish.“I wish you wouldn’t do things like that, Hunk.”---It's been a few years, but Hunk is still the team's shield. Even Shiro's.(Or, after a particularly nasty battle, Hunk and Shiro share a late moment.)





	Marks You Leave

It’s the middle of the night and Hunk has only barely begun to doze when he feels Shiro slide into bed with him, finally, after a long few hours of his usual pacing.

“Hey.” He murmurs, lifting his arms for much needed cuddles. They ache just from that after the day he had, and Shiro must see the way his hands tremble from over-exertion because he slowly sighs from his nose before he obediently slides into Hunk’s hold.

He lets Hunk wrap both his arms around his middle and pull him close, running his fingers through Hunk’s freshly washed hair as he whispers back a soft, “Hey.” He scratches Hunk’s scalp, pressing a kiss against his earlobe.

His toes are freezing when they press against Hunk’s calfs, something Hunk’s gotten far too used to with how often he does it.

“Today was pretty brutal.” Shiro starts, hesitantly. Hunk hears him breathe in like he’s going to continue, but the silence ends up dragging between them thicker than cotton freshly picked.

Hunk lifts his head, tilting it up so he can look him in the eye. “Yeah, a little. Are you okay?”

Shiro sighs again, loud and silent all at once. It prompts Hunk to sit up straight, brows pinching together worriedly until Shiro looks at him like  _that_. Eyes wide, radiating sad down to the last eyelash and oh so expressive even with the faint bags that line them underneath. He almost looks defeated, which is just  _not_ how Shiro should look, ever.

That expression morphs into an unhappy frown when Hunk rolls his shoulder with a pained hiss as he slides closer. His fingers slide their way down Shiro’s arms until he can press their palms together, and he gives them a firm squeeze. “Babe?”

“I know you took that hit for me earlier.” Shiro says, frustrated but gentle. His hands break free from Hunk’s hold to thumb across Hunk’s cheek, passing across the visible part of his bruise. It, unfortunately, didn’t warrant any time in the pods. Shiro almost wishes it did, because Hunk didn’t look  _right_ bruised and battered with anything less than a goofy, dorky grin on his fish. “I wish you wouldn’t do things like that, Hunk.”

He’s, in stark contrast to almost everyone else on the team, bruised all over and sore down to the bone. The next worse injury was Keith’s rolled ankle, and even that would be healed after a day or so’s rest— long before Hunk’s bruises would even begin to change color.

Hunk only shrugs, though, leaning into Shiro’s touch as his eyes flutter shut. “I’d rather it be me than you.” He starts. “And  _yes_ , I mean that. You’ve been hurt enough for a lifetime, Shiro.”

Shiro cringes away, pulling his hands back. Hunk would almost feel bad, if it weren’t true. Who  _wouldn’t_ take a few moments of pain to prevent their loved one from experiencing something even worse?

The room gets darker, lights dimming down in a way that’s meant to be soothing in the night hours, but only serves to create a intangible barrier between them. Hunk can hardly see Shiro’s expression, but he knows it’s an upset one.

Instead of a response, Hunk gets the shift of fabric as Shiro slides the sheets off and escapes from the bed. He thinks, for one resigned moment, that Shiro is so angry— disappointed?— that he’s not going to stay the night as he always does, but he comes back after a short bout of rummaging with a pot of ointment and a resigned look.

“Turn around?”

His fingers are almost as cold as his toes were, but somehow burning hot against Hunk’s skin anyway. Something else he’s gotten used to over time. The dull pain under Hunk’s skin fades with the touch and disappears entirely with each smear of cream Shiro passes over him.

His injury— would have been plural if not for how easily the bruises molded together under close inspection— ranged from his cheek to his neck, down to just below his ribcage. It would’ve been horrifying if both of them hadn’t seen worse already. And really, getting rammed with the metal fist of an enemy’s robot death machine probably could have resulted in much worse.

Didn’t make it any less upsetting.

“You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep sighing like that.” Hunk says, crossing his legs like a pretzel. He reaches a hand back to rest against Shiro’s thigh, just to keep him close. “That’s what my Ma used to say, anyway.”

Shiro rubs at his forehead, but it’s wrinkle free. When he presses his palm back against Hunk’s skin, the bruise already looks better. Or maybe, just looks less brutal against the cold colors of his metal fingers.

It’s a soft touch, but one that Hunk leans into. It sends a soft thrum through his heart, echoing through his body until it shakes a smile from him.

“Thank you, Shiro.” Hunk murmurs. The ointment is massaged into his skin even more delicately after that, until it soaks in completely and Shiro is just touching him to touch.

Shiro is thoughtfully quiet when he finished, but when Hunk turns back to get a better look at him, squinting past the dark, he looks much calmer. Being able to physically feel that Hunk isn’t falling apart at the seams (like he’s scared of) has always helped like that, Hunk found.

When he stands to put the ointment pot back, Hunk pulls him close with a touch to his wrist. “Thanks.”

Shiro pauses. Then, gaze softening, he leans down to kiss him on the forehead, slowly trailing his lips down over his eye, kissing the fragile skin of his eyelids and down lower, until he reaches the curve of his jaw. The taste of the ointment must get into his mouth then, because he sputters all of a sudden and the moment is interrupted as they share a soft, quiet laugh in the night time.

“You’re welcome.” Shiro says back, finally. He wipes his hands clean on his pajama bottoms, too easily convinced to stay instead of putting the medicine back where it belonged. He gathers Hunk cup to squeeze him close, until Hunk rests his head in the arch of his shoulder and presses a reciprocating smooch there.

They were going to have to have a long, long talk in the morning.

Hunk urges him back under the covers, curling in close. He’s a steady, heady presence as always; grounding and strong and  _there_. Shiro holds in his final sigh for the night. They tangle up together, sharing the same pillow because Hunk always ended up on his side of the bed anyway.

“Love you, buttercup.” Hunk whispers, sleep heavy in his voice. Shiro melts at the pet name, and the last of his frustrations roll away to hide under the bed with the space dust bunnies. For the night, anyway.

Shiro kisses him one last time, just because he can, and settles in for the night with a gentle, barely there whisper of, “Love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> please feel free to check out hunk ship week [here](http://hunkshipweek.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
